Several days had passed since she returned home. The time at the encampment stretched out far longer than she intended, from late summer to the following spring, yet, her house stood as she had left it, watched over by its caretaker during her absence. The damp, musty smell cleared from the building quickly with windows opened, roaring fires lit. The thatched roof repaired so water no longer dripped into the bedchamber whenever it rained. Her supplies, all accounted for, her belongings all present. All was in order as it should be.
The wolfhound gnawed on a bone by the hearth, a gift he brought back with him from their travels, completely stripped of meat yet still the dog took great pleasure in it, his focus solely on the task at hand. It was late, sleep eluded her even though the night was still, perhaps too still for she had been used to the sounds of many, dozens, and now she sought rest alone. Her desk in the workroom was clear of clutter save a silver inkwell with quill, a book bound in blue cloth and a small tripod of iron, atop of it a shallow clay dish. The only other item was an oil lamp, its small flame flickering due to a draft coming from the window. Turning the pages of her journal, she read over scattered entries, skipping here and there and eventually reaching a fresh page. Dipping her quill, she committed her thoughts to parchment.
Home.. two places have been recently offered to me that I might call home, three if I am to include mothers farm, and I do not feel I could tolerate there, for as much as I love the woman, she can be infuriating. I was asked by Gregwald if she was beautiful, I suppose she is, no, she is. Though mothers persistent scowl does little for her appearance. Gregwald, I think you would have a dozen women on each arm should the chance arise. You are fair of face too, sweet, humorous, attentive, yet when I look upon you, I am reluctant, regardless you still persist to woo me and no doubt many others. Very few know of my tale and I have shared part of it with you, perhaps I needed someone to ask me of it, to be interested, and you most certainly have been.
It was at a gathering of my brethren, strays from the birthland, where I was offered one of the homes. Hard workers with a welcome to others that would put the townsfolk here to shame. They wish to build a mead hall, rather, they have begun building it. It is but a skeleton at the moment, a timber frame and little else. I will aide them in whatever way I can, be it with medicines, or hard labour, though I am not used to such a thing. He will be there often I imagine, charming, fair, tall tales flowing from his lips. I confess I enjoy his company, a great deal, though I have known bards and their ways, particularly fair haired and silver tongued ones from the mearc. I know I should not allow the memory of what Aegaldred did to taint others, for if I did, I would be like my mother, accusing every man of the same crime. I shall try to dismiss any doubt if next I see him, though I imagine like Gregwald, he has many seeking his attention and I am but one pretty face amongst many. The mistress of the hall, though I dare say she would be opposed to such a title, asked us all to take a strip of cloth, knotting it while thinking of a disturbing or troubling thought we carry with us. She then asked us to cast the knotted fabric into a small bowl of fire, in effect purging that thought. It did not work, I still carry this trouble in my mind, in my dreams, I was foolish to think it could have been so easy.
Bree has not surprised me on my return, it is still rife with jealousy, drunkenness and the smell of cattle dung hanging in the air. All this being said, I have had the company of a very flirtatious and outspoken trader, also that of a man who had been beaten badly and robbed whom I tried to aide afterward, I do hope he is recovering well. I also had a delightful conversation with a woman who produces books. There was a tall, red headed man of Rohan who spoke to me of his missing friends and his efforts to find them. Sadly there was also a very brief reunion with Thalfyr. Perhaps he is angry with me, disappointed, perhaps he feels naught. We had become close, I would hate to think I did hurt him in some way but I could not avoid my absence. Oh and of all people I have been conversing with, Rickstan. Hearing of his family and such over a drink, a very pleasant man I must say. So oft did I see him and his beloved, yet we never spoke, how strange.
The second home would be that of my brothers encampment. I adore him, the people, the children, but he cannot just wed me off, which he is trying very hard to do. Yes, the suitors are very virile men, fair of face, protective, but, I do not love them. The way one of them looks at me, it is a surprise I am not with child by that alone! I believe Arithem understands, yet he still presses for me to settle. Then again, where has love gotten me? Whenever I have opened my heart it has been a veritable disaster. Perhaps he is right? Though I would never give him the honour of knowing I said that! He will not wait forever, if I do not find someone on my own, no doubt he shall have a gown made and waiting when next I go to visit.
My work goes well. I have woven several baskets suitable for the mead hall workers to transport their building tools, things, whatnots. In truth I have no idea what they will use them for but I hope they will be useful. On the morrow I shall make more salve to sooth blisters and sores, I imagine they will more appreciated than many things I could provide. I have received a request for more supplies to be provided to the encampments in the North, work I have shied away from of late, but, I will give it much consideration.
She left the book open, her eyelids a little heavier as she set the quill to one side. The hound, long since asleep with the bone tucked between his front paws, yet soon stirring as she made her way to her bed chamber, taking his prize with him.
